As the Panic Sets In

I fall
Into a pit.
In which I sit
And call.

But no one hears.
So I lie there in emptiness
Alone to wonder and to guess
With just my fears.

Which rule my mind
As sadly, I attempt to pray
That others may look here one day
What will they find?

Or, when?
Will I lay here
A week? A year?
Amen

Air Has Lots of Weight

An ironic twist:

How can emptiness linger?

Can “nothing” hang on?